First Atlanta Driving Lesson
Brakes Optional, Caffiene Mandatory
There I was on Wednesday morning, chipper as ever at 8 a.m., standing on West Peachtree Street ready for my first city driving lesson in Atlanta. As some of you may recall, a while back, I made a razor-sharp left turn, crossing three lanes of oncoming traffic to get my husband to a doctor’s appointment on time. He suffered a tinsy panic attack, and his blood pressure skyrocketed, which, in the big scheme, is one of his ongoing issues anyway. You’d think he’d be grateful that the doctor saw him when his BP was at an all-time high. I delivered him to the exam room on time and primed for treatment.
But no. He wasn’t grateful.
He said that I need, among other things, driving lessons.
The Things I Do for Love
So, the first driving school I contacted said that they don’t work with students in midtown Atlanta because there’s too much traffic. The second driving school sent my instructor for Wednesday morning. Upon arrival, he steps out of the car, asks me if I have a license, says no need to show it, and tells me to get in the driver's seat.
My first question is about adjusting the rearview and side mirrors, but he cuts me off in mid-sentence. He’s desperate for coffee. My first driving maneuver is to find a Dunkin’ with the shortest possible drive-thru line. I surmise this is about practicing keeping my eyes on the road while using my peripheral vision like an octopus to spot Dunkin’, assess the wait in line, and scan for the drivers in my blind spot before making the turn.
The third Dunkin’ is the charm. I pull up to the menu board, and he orders a medium coffee with five creams and three sugars. How is that order even legal in Georgia, or anywhere else?
Rejoining the morning rush back on the road, I notice a slight play in the brakes. He says all is fine and puts some hip-hop on the radio. He asks if the music is distracting, but it’s not nearly as distracting as the flashing "maintenance required" light on the dashboard, which is now going off every 30 seconds.
Fortunately, I approach an intersection I recognize. I know the route home. The traffic light is yellow, with a sun-kissed hint of red, when I make my signature razor-sharp left turn through the intersection. As my instructor texts, he does not seem too concerned. He says it’s better to move quickly through a yellow light than to stop abruptly for a red one.
I thank him for his advice and say that we had covered more than enough for one morning. As I pull the car up in front of my building, I suggest that we save the second hour of the lesson for another day. Sipping his Dunkin’, he agrees.
Reflecting on this driving lesson, I realize what people mean when they say that marriage is about learning to let go. I trust that one day, my husband will let go of the passenger-side dashboard.
Maybe not today, but eventually.
A Note About the Cover Image
When I use ChatGPT5 to generate an image from a post, I always include the prompt in the caption to illustrate how AI interprets design prompts. However, with the image for this post, something interesting happened.
There’s an error in this image. Despite numerous instructions and image regenerations, ChatGPT did not recognize the simple mistake and did not correct it.
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